


Your Mother’s Couch

by haemies



Series: Humblest Pleasures [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (But Not between Them), Alternate Universe - College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Good Boyfriend Mark Lee (NCT), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemies/pseuds/haemies
Summary: Mark and Donghyuck have a meal with Mark’s parents despite all the nerves.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: Humblest Pleasures [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938166
Comments: 30
Kudos: 152





	Your Mother’s Couch

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: There is implied homophobia in this chapter. Please be safe while reading.
> 
> Also let’s not mention my incapability to translate (if it’s even possible?) the terms abeonim/eomeonim/hyungnim, ok thanks!

**MARK**

Even before Donghyuck, Mark’s life had already been full of love. Of course, it was always a different kind of love, but love nonetheless.

It manifested in various different ways. His parents putting their own dreams aside to better his and his older brother’s opportunities in the future and working long, arduous hours to give them everything they needed and didn’t. His brother defending him at the park from the rocks that got stuck in his skates and caused him to fall on his behind in front of the whole neighbourhood when he was eight years old. His old friends making an extremely messy scrapbook full of pictures and memories he clung onto on the eleven-hour long flight back to Seoul at the end of seventh grade. The small piece of home he found in Johnny’s American accent as he read Lamentations 3:22 to 24—comfort lacing his every word that the Lord’s compassions never failed and how they were new every morning.

And then came Donghyuck, with a kind of love Mark had never known before despite three previous relationships.

Donghyuck came, with his bright smile and caring nature, his playful banter and joyful laughter in waves, his grumpiness in the mornings because he wasn’t an early riser and his cursing whenever he lost a round of an online game Mark never saw the appeal behind, his flowery scent that had grown peony because the perfume he wore now had a new version, his confidence seemingly falling into the background when they were alone in their intimate moments and how loveable he became with the slightest touch of pink on his cheeks. And Mark quickly accepted his ever-growing feelings because Donghyuck held his hand on their first date, never failed to wish him a goodnight, made his insides burst with affection and, for the first time ever, Mark wasn’t the one who cared the most—all he had to do was look at Donghyuck and see how his droopy eyes would shimmer while hiding behind a sweater covered hand to know.

But his parents disagreed.

Granted, it wasn’t _Donghyuck_ in particular, but the fact that it was a _he_ —another man. The worst of all was that, unfortunately, Mark couldn’t necessarily say he was surprised they would react like this. Although his parents had always shown a more liberal way of thinking when it came to other things—letting their children decide what they wanted to do in the future and supporting their wishes, keeping an atmosphere around the house where both Mark and his brother would be comfortable to express when they didn’t like or want something, listening whenever their sons needed help, and even commonly uncomfortable topics like sex or mental illnesses had become things they would openly discuss—they had never actually expected one of their sons to be different—to be gay.

By the time Mark came out he was seventeen and at least two of his cousins had already done so before him. Wonjae was one of the oldest cousins, almost fifteen years older than him, and his mother’s favourite nephew. Because before his brother and before him, Wonjae was the one she dotted on.

Mark would stay in his room, playing on his computer and letting his eyes roam through all the pictures he had stuck on his blue walls—pictures of his cousin with his friends that only a few years ago he learned were drag queens, pictures of his cousin with other men, with one man in particular that Mark would see at their family gatherings from time to time. He was only twelve when his mother pulled him aside to ask him not to say anything about how his cousin had kissed that man before parting ways while everyone was in the living room.

And he didn’t, even when he was curious to ask further about it because there was a boy in his school that Mark found pretty, that he wouldn’t mind pecking his lips during recess. Not until three years later when he found the only cousin of his age crying because the girl she liked had started dating a boy in their class and Mark patted her shoulders in silence until her tears ceased and he was finally able to tell someone that he understood.

He understood it now, too, how nerve-racking this situation was for them, for Donghyuck. Because even if his father had answered politely when he first introduced his boyfriend to them two months ago, even if his mother had prepared Donghyuck’s favourite dishes, it never reached their eyes. And his parents didn’t return his smile when Donghyuck said his goodbyes with a wish to meet again soon. So the constant shaking of his legs, the forlorn looks out the window and watching the trees flutter in the wind, the merciless picking at his own fingers, Mark understood. And reached over to pry his thumb away.

“Sorry, was it annoying you?”

“No.” He whispered, closing his hand around his boyfriend’s thumb. “You were going to hurt yourself if you kept going.”

Donghyuck darted his eyes from his face, dropping his gaze to their intertwined hands now resting on Mark’s lap. The skin at the bottom of his index nail had grown thin, prickled at the edges, one tear away from drawing blood and it was obvious from the small wince that escaped his lips that Donghyuck hadn’t realised how rough he was being with himself.

Mark squeezed his hands, directing them to Donghyuck’s lap and carefully letting go before taking off his seatbelt and standing just steps away from his seat to grab his backpack from the overhead. He set it on his seat, branching it open and reaching for the bottom where the smaller items would be. From his right, Donghyuck hissed silently, clutching his fingers in pain when Mark zipped his backpack closed again and put it back to its place.

Between the two of them, Mark was the one with the worst pain tolerance. Admittedly, he was also the one who got injured the most, had almost faded scars on his fingertips from grabbing his instant noodles too soon and another from always hitting his bicycle on the back of his shins.

Or maybe it was Donghyuck who didn’t show his suffering because he hadn’t done it much since they started dating. Mark could probably count it on one faintly scarred hand how often he did. The time Donghyuck accidentally kicked the drawers underneath his bed, when he almost broke a tooth while biting his zipper open, the morning after he slept over Mark’s room for the first time because, apparently, his mattress was even worse than Donghyuck’s and now, with his fingers in his mouth, trying to hold back his pain.

“Don’t suck your fingers when you’re injured,” Mark said, pulling his hand down. “It’s very unhygienic.”

“It’s no big deal. There wasn’t even any blood. I’m fine.”

His hold was cautious yet still tight when Donghyuck tried tugging his hand away, only giving in when Mark squeezed his wrist lightly, a fleeting scowl growing on his face with each dab of the wipes Mark had been keeping on his bag ever since his freshman year.

He frowned. “Does it hurt?”

“It stings.”

“Hm? It’s not supposed to sting, they’re alcohol-free wipes.” Mark swabbed his hands, taking the time to carefully engulf and clean each of his fingers when he noticed how asymmetrical his boyfriend’s nails looked. “I thought you stopped biting your nails.”

“I did,” Donghyuck mumbled, retracting his hands in shame. “Mostly.”

And one glance was all it took for a smile to break onto his face, the blush on his boyfriend’s cheeks, the pout on his lip still visible when Mark got up to put the wipes away—only growing when he sat back down and reached over to interlace their fingers once more.

Donghyuck moved his hand, trying—very nonchalantly—to pull them back, and Mark smiled even larger as he asked, “Do you still have that nail polish I got you?”

“Not that please.”

“I'll paint them for you.”

“Hyung, you didn’t kiss me for a whole day because of that nail polish.” Donghyuck whined quietly, right heel stomping onto the bus floor.

It was only during moments like this that Donghyuck truly felt younger than him, because he was always so confident with others, level-headed when things didn’t go his way no matter how proud he was, for he always found a way to work around it. But then there were times with Mark, with his younger sister because if Donghyuck was weak with him, he was downright powerless with his siblings, when his boyfriend tugged at his arm, voice an octave higher than usual and his words dragging on, that Donghyuck truly felt younger.

Almost like Donghyuck could depend on him one day, like he could protect his boyfriend and care for him, too. Mark _was_ the older of the two of them, after all. And his chest just might hurt from how swollen his heart got, from how warm it suddenly was underneath the black windbreaker he wore.

Because Donghyuck _would_ , one day, hopefully.

“Actually, it wasn’t because of the nail polish.” Mark peered at his boyfriend’s confused frown. “I just enjoyed how cute you were being.”

Donghyuck’s eyebrows rose. “Woah, hyung. Since when have you been a sadist?”

“How did you get _sadism_ from what I just said?” He chuckled.

“Because I was suffering.”

“It actually wasn’t even a full day,”

“Twenty-one hours!” His boyfriend exclaimed, squeezing his hand when he opened his mouth to respond. “Don’t even try to fight me on this, I _counted_.”

And how could he fight him when Donghyuck had counted the hours he went by without a kiss from Mark because his lips tasted like the awful anti-biting nail polish he bought on his routine trip to the pharmacy for his pollen allergy pills? How could Mark fight Donghyuck at all, when his eyes glinted even through the ridiculously nonthreatening scowl on his face? He could never fight Donghyuck on anything, and it was worrisome when his boyfriend was always so keen on starting—harmless—trouble. But, oh, if Mark didn’t like him too much—he would never fight Donghyuck at all.

He would just squeeze his hand right back, and press his lips to the beds of his fingernails and whisper, “I’ll kiss you right here, right now, if you don’t stop.” So only his boyfriend would hear.

And Donghyuck would go quiet, and his lips would pinch ever so slightly as he turned towards the window again to hide the reddening of his cheeks.

And what else could Mark do, if not like his boyfriend so much?

Mark could do little more than indulge in every moment of shyness, every word muttered under his breath and Donghyuck rushing to change the song playing on the earphones they shared because he couldn’t hear the word _kiss_ quite yet.

And he had no qualms admitting he was just as weak to Donghyuck as his boyfriend was to him, perhaps even a little more. But how could he not, when Donghyuck was just so loveable and counted the hours they had gone without kissing?

Mark _definitely_ liked his boyfriend too much.

“Getting paper cuts every day came in handy, huh?”

“Hyung…” Donghyuck recoiled, eyes closed and a huff coming from his nose. “Please don’t start with the dad jokes, you’re only twenty-one.”

“I’m learning from you though.”

“My jokes are funny.”

“Sure they are.”

“Excuse me?” Donghyuck scoffed. “You always laugh.”

“I laugh because I like you, baby.”

“That’s—“ Donghyuck stopped, and even through his squint, the red in his cheeks deepened. “Whatever, I’m funny, you’re just mean.”

And Mark laughed, wiping away the pout in his boyfriend’s mouth with a simple touch of his left hand on his face—guiding his head down to rest on his shoulder and Donghyuck followed in silence, the only sounds coming from other passengers’ conversations, from their earphones as Paul Klein sang about a while, or forever.

“Better?”

“A little.” 

“Good,” Mark whispered, placing a kiss on top of Donghyuck’s head. “And you don’t need to worry, baby. I think my last talk with them got the message through.”

“That makes me a little nervous too.” Donghyuck muttered through the teeth in his bottom lip. “What if they hate me because of that?”

“They don’t hate you, Donghyuck-ah.” Mark frowned, pulling his boyfriend away from his body to look at his face. “They never hated you. It’s just...” He paused, swallowing to find the best words. “Honestly, I don’t even know. It’s a different generation, maybe a little of their religious views or just society. I don’t know. But they never hated you, baby.”

“Hm,” Donghyuck hummed, dropping back down onto his shoulders as he opened his mouth in dismissal—maybe wonder—to say, “This song reminds me of you.”

So he dropped, too. Letting go of the topic because it always got too much. Because Paul Klein rang through his ears once more, delivering his boyfriend’s confession of _I like you lots_ , and oh—oh, so did Mark. No matter how difficult things got.

Or how forever would probably never be long enough—to be with Donghyuck, to play with his fingers and smell the lavender in his brown hair. And time always went by so quickly with him, because Seoul’s grey skies had cleared out underneath the Daejeon road sign, because Donghyuck’s iPhone had started playing his favourite Lany album from the beginning all over again, and Mark didn’t bother trying to change the song. Donghyuck probably wasn’t able to sleep the previous night and his quiet snores came at almost every beat of the drums.

And time always went by so quickly with him, on the taxi drive to Yuseong-gu, Donghyuck’s steps hesitating in the elevator, smile bigger than ever when his mother opened the door. Although small, his mother returned, with a quick lift of the corner of her light red lips and a nod of her head as she stepped aside for them to enter.

“You’re here, my son.” She sighed happily, arms down on his waist to pat his butt the same way she used to do when he was younger before letting go and facing his boyfriend, whose lips still stretched in the brightest smile he could muster. “Donghyuck. Welcome, again.”

Donghyuck gulped harshly, bowing a bit too quickly. “Eomeonim, thank you for having me over again. I brought something for you. Mark-ssi said this was you and your husband’s favourite wine in Canada.”

His mother turned to look at him again, only snapping her head back when he signalled for her to respond with a quirk of his eyebrows. She extended her arms, taking the brown bag in her manicured hands. “Considerate, as always. Thank you, I’m sure Mark’s father will love your gift.” And it wasn’t ill-intended, it didn’t even sound harsh, but it wasn’t his mum.

Mae Lee had always been a woman difficult to please, the type of parent that never excused laziness or procrastination, but she was always there—morning or night—to help Mark, his older brother, even his cousins, when homework got too complicated. She was always there to demand more time for Mark to work on his essays and projects whenever he wasn’t able to finish them because he would spend most of his free time in middle school sitting at his father’s work desk and asking what crustacean he was studying.

In a way, it was understandable, his mother was the youngest woman to start working as a defence lawyer for the Royal Bank of Canada, after all. She _could_ be difficult (“I have earned the right to be difficult. If you want to be difficult too, then you better start working to study at least seven years. At Harvard.” She had told him after Mark dared to scream at her at fifteen), but she was never malicious. She had polished the art of being petty without ever sounding rude with co-workers.

But Donghyuck wasn’t one of the old men she worked with, and his lips quivered from the tone in her voice, her words, so Mark just took his hands the moment she turned around, only managing a quick squeeze before Donghyuck retrieved them.

Mark cleared his throat. “Is hyung here?”

“He won’t be joining us until later.”

“And dad?”

“He’s in the kitchen, go put your things away and come.” She smiled at him before walking off.

Donghyuck breathed out deeply, hands tugging the strap of Mark’s backpack. “I should go put our things in your room, hyung.” He said, turning without waiting for a response only to freeze in his tracks seconds later, bouncing on his own feet as if choosing whether to stay or to go. “Wait, what the hell am I doing? I should go greet your father first.”

“Baby—”

He took a step in the direction his mother had gone off towards earlier before stopping again. “No, no. Your mom definitely wants me to put our things away first.”

“Baby—“ Mark repeated.

He glanced over towards Mark’s door, eyebrows pinched in the middle as he muttered, “What am I saying? Our stuff can wait. It would be rude if I didn’t greet your father as soon as I arrived at his home, right?”

“Donghyuck-ah.”

“Oh my god, Lee Donghyuck, where did your manners go—”

“ _Yah_ , Lee Donghyuck.” Mark pulled at the sleeve of the copper jacket he wore, finally getting him to stop moving back and forth and look at him, with eyes blown wide, instead. “Just go put our things in my room first, I’ll let him know, okay?”

Donghyuck blinked mindlessly, nodding quickly. “Okay. Okay, that sounds like a good plan. Don’t forget to tell him, please.”

“I won’t.”

Only when his boyfriend left, quick steps all the way to the last door at the end of the hallway, did Mark let out a breath of his own and make his way to the kitchen where his parents stood—reading over the wine bottle Donghyuck had bought, a small smile on his father’s lips, the smell of dakgalbi in the air, and clean, newly washed lettuce on a plate in the middle of the table.

His mother was never malicious. She was just a little difficult.

“Mum, please hold back on your Mae-ness.” Whispered Mark—because his boyfriend had better understanding of English than he believed himself to have—walking to his father’s side to plant a kiss on his head. “He hasn’t had enough chances to figure you out yet, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure Mark’s _father_ will love your gift. Like, _really_?”

“Well, look at your father. He loved it, didn’t he?”

Hearing himself being mentioned in their conversation, his father’s eyes tore from the wine in his hands, this time smiling at him as he showed off Donghyuck’s gift.

“It’s true, I did.”

And it was obvious he would. Henry Lee was the calm to his wife’s storm in every aspect. His father was quiet most often than not, preferring to spend his energy in the company of the marine animals he had been studying for the past eighteen years or reading old poetry books Mark’s grandmother used to collect.

But his father never truly smiled at his boyfriend. Not the way he did at his sons. He just did enough, so Donghyuck wouldn’t feel too left out or too pressured, because despite being on opposite (yet still similar) ends of a spectrum, both were always a possibility with his parents.

“Yeah, but it was a gift for the _both_ of you, not just dad.” Mark sighed. “So, _please_ , mum. At least drink it in front of him.”

“Fine.” She walked towards the counters, opening the counters to grab wine glasses and clicking her tongue as she said, “Where is he anyway?”

“Putting our things away, like you _very subtly_ told him to do.” Mark squinted at her before turning to his father. “He was freaking out because he wasn’t greeting you first thing, so make sure you don’t bring it up.”

His father made a zipping gesture across his lips, “Good thing I’m the quiet one, ay?”

Before he could answer, the sound of steps sounded through the opened door of the kitchen and Donghyuck’s feet—covered by the brand new dark blue socks he had gotten specifically for this along with the beige slacks he wore—came into view as he walked inside, immediately bowing his head to greet his father.

“Thank you for having me again, abeonim. I hope the wine is as good as you remember it.”

“It’ll probably be even better than I remember it, it’s been a few years.” His father patted his shoulder briefly, then pointed towards the table where everything had already been set to perfection. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

“Yes, abeonim.” Donghyuck smiled, waiting for his dad to move first so he could face his mother. “Is there anything I can help with you, eomeonim?”

“No, everything is ready. Just grabbing some glasses for the wine and then the dakgalbi.”

“Should I bring the dakgalbi?”

Mark sat down in front of his father, pulling the chair that used to be his designated seat when he still lived there out for his boyfriend, catching his mother’s tight-lipped smile when he looked up again. “If you insist.”

Donghyuck nodded, a smile of his own small and honest on his lips as he walked to the stove, picking up the cloth from the counter so he could take the pans in his hands without getting burnt. He turned around carefully, halting yet again, waiting in silence for Mark’s mother to sit down first so he could set the pan in the middle before moving to his own seat.

Mark patted his thigh—a quick sign of reassurance, or an apology that his boyfriend felt obligated to do everything in order for his parents to accept him (“No, hyung, you don’t get it.” Donghyuck sighed, retrieving the wine bottle from his hands. “I _have_ to do things like this, it’s just how things are here.”), and Mark would try to tell him his parents had lived fifteen years in another country—the country where they would start their family, raise their sons, the country they’d probably still be living in, had his father’s research not brought them back to their birthplace. But Donghyuck would always give him the same response and how he wouldn’t really understand when he was a foreigner.

Although it stung the first times he said it, there was no malice in his words. Donghyuck was right, too. Every girlfriend his brother had brought home had done the same thing, even the one back in Jack’s sophomore year. So if his brother’s girlfriends had to go out of their way to appease their parents, it was no surprise his boyfriend would double, triple their efforts.

So Mark just let him do it. Even if it left a slight sour taste in his mouth—Donghyuck cutting all the fruit, washing the dishes, sorting out the trash, seemed more like exploitation than it did getting to know his family—it calmed his boyfriend down, somehow. Because Donghyuck was used to recycling thanks to his roommate, his back always hurt less after drying and stretching to put away the dishes, and he could hum away the song that had been stuck in his head all morning while picking out the seeds from the apples.

The same way he was doing now, eyes closed and hands atop his own legs, murmuring the faintest of graces to a God he rarely—if ever—prayed to. But, _Amen_. It meant so much. And Mark was always just as thankful to him for doing so.

“Thank you for the food.” Donghyuck said as soon as he was done with his graces, chopsticks still at the table, waiting for Mark’s parents and even Mark himself (something they had agreed he would stop doing a few months into their relationship) to start eating, almost like he had another God to give thanks to.

“Eat a lot.” His mother replied shortly.

And his boyfriend smiled, at her words, at the piece of chicken Mark placed on his bowl, at his father thanking him with a smile after Donghyuck poured the wine into his glass and changing the layout of the table so Donghyuck would be able to reach them. How samgyeopsal had been Donghyuck’s favourite dish for years but dakgalbi was the best option the restaurants around KU had.

“How was first week of junior year?”

Mark cleared his throat before speaking. “It was okay, the classes seem interesting.” He shrugged, whispering a quick thanks to his boyfriend and wrapping the chicken around the lettuce Donghyuck had given him. “Professor Choi still hates me, though.” Mark said, throwing a pout when Donghyuck laughed quietly by his side.

His mother mirrored his expression. “Should I give him a piece of my mind?”

“No, mum. I can handle it myself.”

“It’s been three years and you’re still getting target by this teacher.”

“I’ll handle it myself, mum.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, before looking to his right. “At least if you won't, he will. Right? I’m sure you’re learning how to debate properly.”

Donghyuck straightened his back, fingers covering his mouth to swallow before speaking. “Yes, eomeonim.”

“Political Science, correct?”

“Yes, eomeonim. Political Science and International Relations.”

“Hm,” She nodded. “How is it going?”

“It’s going very well! Great, even!” Donghyuck beamed at her interest. “The teachers said the second semester of this year is when things get complicated. I’m studying hard every day so I’m confident I’ll do well.”

“Good.” She said. “Your attitude is already half of the work. Continue to do well.”

Although she would never say it out loud, his mother was impressed. It was obvious to him, to his brother and his father, to anyone who knew her. Her eyebrows had quirked last fall, when Mark told his family he was seeing someone from his university, that he was a Political Science major, with plans to work as a Policy Analyst, with ambitions and dreams reaching even higher than that.

His mother would never say it out loud, but he knew. From her curious questions every time he mentioned Donghyuck had a paper due, her excessive nodding after Donghyuck called him on Christmas morning to tell him one of his professors had personally asked him to join the research group he had of his students, the beginnings of a smile in the corners of her mouth on a video call after Donghyuck had been told he was the best student in his year.

And now, from the glint in her eyes as she chewed on her food and pretended not to be impressed.

“Yes, eomeonim. I’ll make sure I do well.” Donghyuck assured.

“What about you, mum?” Mark asked. “The case you’ve been working on.”

“It’s getting clearer now. I finally got the daughter to talk to me two days ago.”

“That’s great news, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s a start. Unfortunately, she only said a total of ten words and two of those were for me to get lost.”

His father’s laugh rang over their heads as Mark’s eyes bulged. “Quite brave, isn’t she?”

“I can’t tell a twelve-year-old client off but I sure can do it to you, _honey_.”

Mark chuckled after gulping down the wine Donghyuck brought. “And you, dad?”

“Hm?” His father looked up from his food. “Ah, we just started working on this new study evaluating stress level of rehabilitated sea turtles during transport. Other than that, everything is the same.” His eyes widened slightly. “Oh, and my co-worker’s daughter is getting married soon. Biologist Oh’s daughter, do you remember him?”

“I do.” Mark’s eyebrows rose in realization. “Wait, isn’t his daughter Oh Soojin?”

“That’s right.”

“Isn’t she too young to get married?” He frowned. “She’s still studying. I saw her just the other day.” Mark turned his head towards Donghyuck, a lost expression coating his features. “The girl from Thursday.”

“The one with the hazel eyes?” Mark nodded in response. “She’s very beautiful.”

“He’s from a good family.” His mother cut off.

To say it was strange to hear it from his mother would be an understatement. This was the same person who had denied his father’s confessions for almost a year because she had her studies to focus on. The same person who had always told her sons to never let anyone hold them back or do it to others.

“So is she.”

“Exactly.” She panned. “She's going to be a doctor after she graduates and her future father-in-law needs someone to inherit the hospital when he retires.”

Mark scoffed. “Wow.”

“It’s beneficial for everyone involved.” She announced. “She’s going to have a celebratory dinner at Sky Rose Garden. Do you know it? It’s on the same building as Daehan Cinema, so it’s a good place for young couples,” His mother paused to swallow, chopsticks grabbing another small piece of chicken. “It’ll be a good place for a first date with your future girlfriend.”

It didn’t take more than a second for silence to engulf the room. His mother seemingly oblivious to the way his mouth fell open, to her husband clearing his throat, and Mark didn’t even have to look to know Donghyuck had stopped eating, hearing the clink of his chopsticks on the table and adverting his eyes down to his lap.

“Mum.”

“Hm?” She hummed absentmindedly, still picking at the side dishes in front of her.

So Mark repeated, “Mum.” A sterner edge in his voice that caused her to face him, his father next and her expression finally caught up.

“I—sorry, I forgot.”

“You _forgot_?” He asked ironically. “He’s literally sitting in front of you, how can you forget?” Mark frowned, Donghyuck’s flippers gripping at his thigh underneath the table.

“I’m not used to it yet, Mark. You can’t blame me.”

And he didn’t. In the few months after their relationship begun and he hinted in small doses so it would settle in his parents’ minds and hopefully prepare them for when he brought Donghyuck home for the first time. Because even in this and maybe foolishly, Mark understood.

He had never introduced his parents to anyone, nor had he even told them when he was dating. Mark was young back then, still learning how to live with his feelings—his identity that only a few people in his life could relate to, and it was something he had to do on his own, follow his own pace and time so he could discover himself completely—so his voice wouldn’t waver and he could be proud when he came out to his parents that day when his family celebrated his birthday.

It had already been four years. Eight months of those with Donghyuck by his side and three months with him visiting Mark’s family home. And Mark tried to understand now, too. But he couldn’t, not anymore.

“You didn’t say anything to hyung’s girlfriend after _five_ months. We’ve been together for almost a year.”

“That’s not a fair comparison.”

“Of course it isn’t, I’ve been dating Donghyuck longer. You _should_ be used to it by now.” His voice got harsher, as did his boyfriend’s hold on his leg. “Actually, this isn’t even something you should have to get used to. Why do _I_ have to wait for _you_ to be comfortable with _my_ relationship? Why does Donghyuck ha—“

“Don’t worry, eomeonim. I’m sure you meant no harm.” Donghyuck spoke in his tauntingly sweet voice, hand now gripping Mark’s forgotten one in his lap. “Right, Mark-ssi?”

Mark squinted at him. “Donghyuck-ah—“

“ _Right_?” Donghyuck begged silently—yet so incredibly loud—with his eyes.

And Mark, who could never fight his boyfriend on anything, sighed. “Right.”

Turning his head to the side and covering his mouth as he brought the wineglass to take a sip, Donghyuck opened his mouth to talk—a long breath and the start of a sad smile on his lips. “Mark-ssi is allergic to pollen.” He said softly, “And he’s been getting very into National Geographic documentaries these past few weeks, so maybe Seoul Forest Park would be a better choice.”

“Lee Donghyuck—”

“The deer are so used to people, they’ll even eat paper if you’re not careful.”

“Stop.” Mark warned.

Donghyuck’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s very worth it though, they’re quite beautiful.”

There weren’t many moments since he was born that Mark had seen his mother go speechless. If he tried hard enough, he could remember back in elementary school when he won first place in the writing competition his school upheld every year, when Jack turned sixteen years old and got caught smoking at the back of the school gym building. And right now, as she looked at his boyfriend for a few lost seconds before breaking away with the wine swindling in her glass and shame in her eyes.

No one spoke for a while, Donghyuck barely eating even after his father went for a second bowl of rice and Mark placed a piece of chicken on the lettuce laying in front of him. The corner of Donghyuck’s lips twitched weakly, chopsticks picking at the rest of the food and swallowing so harshly, Mark was sure he was swallowing more than just food.

In silence and absolute remorse, Mark held his left hand again. This time softly, as a reminder to his boyfriend that he was there, that it would be okay, that he liked watching Natural Geographic documentaries because Donghyuck would always giggle against his hair about how much he looked like the big cat cubs displayed on his computer screen.

The heftiness of the room only dispersed with the sounds of the security code being punched in and the front door opening shortly after. His brother’s hefty steps on the hardwood floor of the living room, his voice booming as he sang, “I’m home.”

His father coughed dryly. “In the kitchen.”

“Mark, you’re here.” His older brother said, squeezing his shoulder. “Donghyuck, hey.” Jack smiled brightly, fingers ruffling his boyfriend’s hair. “Your hair’s getting long, man.”

“I should get a haircut, shouldn’t I, hyungnim?”

“Nah, you look great! It suits you way more than it did this old man back in ‘98.”

“Yah, Lee Jinhyung, I told you to stop bringing that up.” His father flicked his ear as his brother winked, and only then did Donghyuck’s shoulders—slightly—get less tense.

There would never be enough words Mark could say that would let his brother know just how thankful he was. Jack always knew how to ease their parents’ rage, had learnt it from years of escaping harsh punishments of taking away all of his electronic devices and his freedom to go out every day.

But lately, Jack did more than just that, he stayed by Mark’s side, propelled his arm over his shoulder and rubbed his arm the day Mark admitted to being in a relationship. How it all became so normal and the weight lifted off from his shoulders, from his lower back, when his brother pinched his cheek and reminded him he was bright red. And he would always call their parents out, Mark didn’t have to be there to know.

Because Jack’s eyes crinkled the first time Donghyuck came over, and Donghyuck’s smile quivered onto a more natural curve when he realized he didn’t have to act in front of his brother. Because Jack’s loud voice, his jokes and stories about his day at work took away the tension in the air and made his parents laugh even on their way to the living room a few hours later.

“I’m guessing they weren’t on their best behaviour today.” He said, closing the door after nodding at Donghyuck who held his phone up with a call from his mother.

“Mum wasn’t great.” Mark bit. “She said Sky Rose Garden would be a good place for a first date with my future girlfriend.”

“Jesus.”

He sighed, hand running down his face. “I’m getting tired of waiting for her, hyung.”

“I know, kid. But she’s trying her best.”

“Is she? Is she actually trying her best?” Mark asked. “Because her best isn’t good enough anymore. Donghyuck doesn’t deserve this, hyung. _I_ don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right Mark, neither of you deserves this. It’s just a bit hard for her to get it through her head. I don’t think either of them ever thought about the possibility of one of their sons being gay and Donghyuck is the first person you’ve brought home to them, so it’s all starting to feel very real for them.”

Mark had the same discussion with himself a while back, after another meeting had gone wrong and his mother’s brain to mouth filter wasn’t working as well as it did in her job. It wasn’t fair, but it was reality. Few parents ever actually stop to think about the possibility of their children being different from themselves and while Mark wasn’t necessarily comfortable calling his sexuality a difference, that too, was reality.

His parents were straight, his brother was straight, all of the close family friends who went to their dinner parties were straight. And while Mark wasn’t the only one, it was different when it was their son.

“What about me? And him? It’s much harder for us, you know. We already have to deal with all the shit strangers would throw our way if they knew and now I can’t even be open in my own family home.”

“I know, Mark.”

“No, hyung, that’s the thing. You _don’t_ know.” He sighed, turning the chair around to look at his brother, whose eyes were already locked to his frame. “You could never truly know because they’ve always welcomed the girls you introduced to them with open arms and I’m happy for you. I just wish they would do the same for me, because Donghyuck is the most important person in my life and I see a future with him, hyung. But how could I ask him to stay for a future that might never arrive for our parents?”

“I—I don’t know.” Jack replied, gloominess overwriting all of his features.

He wasn’t expecting his brother to know, because how would he—when Mark himself didn’t have any answers to any of these looming questions. His brother would never have the solutions to his problems on this, but at least Mark could count on his support.

And that was what he needed most, for now.

Jack sighed, sad smile playing on his lips as he spoke, “I guess you’ll just have to use our family’s shamelessness on him.”

And maybe it would work on him, maybe Mark had learnt everything about being shameless after nineteen years under this roof and observing the masters at work. Maybe Donghyuck would never be able to leave him and would be put under some sort of spell if Mark acted on family tradition alone.

But he never got to agree or discuss it further, the door to his room cracked open and Donghyuck walked in silently. The corner of his mouth tugging upwards as he forced a smile and Jack's announcement of his sudden urge to eat the leftover dakgalbi became little more than white noise before he left and closed the door again.

“Ready to go?”

Donghyuck nodded, fingers threading through his hair as soon as he dropped onto the bed. “You should stay, though.” He murmured. “You shouldn’t leave without talking to them after what happened today.”

“I’ve said everything I had to say. It’s not my responsibility to talk some sense into my parents.” Mark pulled his hand off his head when he tried to interject. “I’m going with you.”

“Hyung—“

“Don’t.” He squeezed his fingers. “I’m going back to Seoul with you.”

Donghyuck sighed, thumb caressing the bumps of his knuckles. “Okay.” He replied, looking around Mark—dropping his eyes to the mattress they sat on and a smile broke onto his lips again.

Mark let go of his hand to immediately grab the star-shaped doll leaning against his pillow, pushing it into his chest to abstain it from his boyfriend’s view and teasing.

“You told me you lost it.”

“I did.” He mumbled, trying to keep Donghyuck’s fingers from clutching the plushie.

“Let me see it.” He shook his head fervently. “Why?” Donghyuck whined, pulling at his sleeve as he denied him again. And Mark would have stood his ground, kept the toy safe the same way the bright yellow and smiling face did him throughout his childhood. If only Donghyuck didn’t stare at his with those twinkling eyes and pouty lips, voice just a tad sweeter than it normally was. “Hyung, let me see it.”

As a child, Mark believed his dolls and other toys to be alive, like the movies showed him when he was five years old. He could never remember much from back then, but the memory of Buzz Lightyear flying through the room and falling to the ground along with the rest of the toys as Andy walked in etched into his brain. And Mark would try to catch his toys—the star-shaped doll, the hot wheels cars, all of the action figures that had primarily been Jack’s but had passed onto him—cracking his bedroom door open as slowly as possible, getting on his knees to be as low as he could so his toys wouldn’t see him.

The childhood wonder still prevailed, only as tender memory now but still, Lucky seemed quite happy to be in Donghyuck’s hands—mirroring the same smile on his boyfriend’s face.

“She really is Lucky.”

Mark pushed his shoulders with no conviction. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m just saying,” Donghyuck replied, and his nose scrunched whenever his smile stretched as far as it did at the moment. “Can we take her with us? You wanted to bring some stuff back to Seoul with you.”

“Not her.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Mark’s legs moved until he was standing in front of his wardrobe, opening and going through clothes he probably had grown out of either physically or in taste. “You just want to tease me.”

Donghyuck’s soft laugh hang over his head, wrapped him in a hug almost as tight and comfortable as his arms did around his waist, resting his cheek on his left shoulder, eyes locked to his face as he smiled all over again.

“Hyung, how are you so adorable?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Donghyuck spoke onto the fabric of his jacket, pressing a quick kiss on top of it. “That’s why I tease you all the time, you and your reactions are just so fucking cute.”

Mark slapped his hands lightly, “Don’t swear at me.” He uttered, slipping his thumb in between his boyfriend’s hands and squeezing. “You know I don’t like it.”

“You haven’t been complaining much this past month, though.”

Maybe it was Donghyuck’s breath on his ear, his neck, or maybe it was what he was implying, or maybe it was both. Mark’s face flushed, cheeks and ears growing warmer and warmer and his boyfriend chuckling lowly—face nuzzling into his shoulder.

A fact. An embarrassing and most likely utterly sinful fact, but a fact nonetheless. As hypocritical as it was, Mark wasn’t the biggest fan of Donghyuck swearing, something his boyfriend usually only did when he was incredibly frustrated or angry. But there were moments—well, a particular moment—that he didn’t mind it as much. Or at all. It depended on the mood.

But that was reserved for escapades, in his dorm bed, on Donghyuck’s messy desk, sometimes the bedroom floor (he wasn’t proud, especially when he laid on a pair of dirty socks once—his _roommate’s_ dirty socks, to make matters even worse), absolutely not in the bedroom of his family house, with his brother talking loudly on the phone just next door, his father cleaning up the kitchen while his mother went through her work.

So Mark squeezed his hands again, wriggling out of his hold and throwing an old sweater he used to sleep in into Donghyuck’s hands.

“Help me pack so we can leave.”

Donghyuck grinned, a delighted glint in his eyes when he pinched Mark’s ever-growing blushing cheeks. “Okay, cutie.”

Without correcting him or keeping his feelings in check, Mark passed the clothes he wanted to take with him to his boyfriend, watching as Donghyuck neatly folded every single item and handed back to him so he could put it into his backpack.

And time went by quickly with him once again. Fixing his room, asking if everything was alright with his mother and learning she had called to ask if they were already in Seoul, trying to hold his own smile as Donghyuck tugged at his jacket over and over until he finally agreed to bring Lucky with them, and by his brother’s room—opening the door after knocking and Jack’s messy hair in waves when he looked back at them.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” Donghyuck nodded, stopping in front of his brother’s desk, bowing his head ever so slightly. “Thank you again, hyung.”

“Sure,” Jack smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “Invite me to Seoul sometime if you wanna pay me back.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Jack ruffled his hair. “And I promise I won’t be late next time.”

Mark nodded, turning to make for the door. “Tell noona I said hi.”

Donghyuck’s steps grew impatient through the hallway, making Mark quicken his own pace to stand behind him just in case he tripped or missed his footing. However, when they arrived at the door, Donghyuck stopped, waiting for him to enter first.

“Dad,” Mark announced, walking in, Donghyuck following right after. “We’re leaving now.”

“Ah, already?”

At the sight in front of him, Donghyuck’s eyes widened. His father’s sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, gloves covering his hands that held a dirty bowl and a sponge. “Should I help with the dishes, abeonim?” 

“Oh, no. Your bus is probably arriving soon.”

“There’s still time, I could help you quickly.”

His father shook his head, smiling softly. “It’s alright, you should go now so you’re able to get to the terminal comfortably.”

“If I help you, it’ll be quic—“

“I’ll see you next time, dad.” Mark cut in, placing the same type of kiss to his head as he did earlier that day.

“Oh, sure.”

Watching as he made his way back to the door, one foot already out of the kitchen, Donghyuck frowned, nervously looking between him and his father before finally making the decision to bow his head—lower this time.

“Thank you so much for having me again, abeonim.”

Donghyuck pulled his arm, stopping them both in front of the bathroom door. “I should help your father with the dishes.”

“We have to go now or we’ll be late.”

“Still, I should help—“

Mark sighed, taking his hand off. “Donghyuck-ah, I promise it’s not that deep. My parents have a deal when it comes to house duties, dad is just doing his.”

“But I—“

“No.” Donghyuck tried to open his mouth to talk again. “No.” Mark deflated. “Now take a breath because my mom is going to see us off.”

The way she always did. By now, Mark was used to it and Donghyuck was probably on his way to start being used to it as well. His mother would always stay at the door, looking and sometimes (very rarely) waving until the elevator doors closed.

It was no surprise when she got up from the chair behind her desk to walk with them and open the door with a soft click. Although, the imminent silence was definitely not normal and was, without a doubt, the bearings of what transpired earlier.

His brief moments with Donghyuck in his room were almost enough to wipe it off from his mind entirely, because it was only when his mother cleared her throat and Donghyuck gulped loudly next to him that he noticed how much heavier the air around them was—even more than usual—when they said their goodbyes.

“Eomeonim.” Even though Donghyuck’s chin touched the start of his collarbones as he bowed, his voice still held the confidence Mark loved so much. And he could relax, if just a little, for his boyfriend had never forgotten his advice to always be as confident with his mother as he was with anyone else. Because if Mark loved it, so would his mother—the most confident person he knew. “Thank you for having me today.”

“Of course.” She replied quickly. “Thank you—“ Her voice swayed, eyes taking a peek at Mark for a brief second. “Thank you for your gift, Mark’s father and I will enjoy it well. Thank you for coming, as well. Have a safe trip back to Seoul.”

“Yes, eomeonim.” Donghyuck nodded, eyes shining. “I’ll go get the elevator. Thank you again.”

After a nod of her on head and watching in silence as Donghyuck walked to the end of the hallway and pressed the button, she turned to face him.

“You used to hide Lucky in your closet when you had people over.”

“I didn’t need to, I told him about her.”

“You did?” She asked, lips cracking open just a smidge when he nodded. “I see.” She swallowed, looking back at Donghyuck who was keeping track of the floor numbers the elevator was on. “Do you have the food I packed for yo—“

“I’m not coming home until the end of the semester.”

“What?” His mother asked, eyebrows arching in a frown. “What about next month? You said you already bought a ticket.”

“I’ll ask for a date exchange, or I’ll cancel it.” He affirmed, not letting her cut in as he continued, “That should give you some time to think of a better apology.”

“Lee Minhyung, who do you think you’re talking to right now?”

“I’m talking to you, mum.” Mark had always taken more after his father but he was still his mother’s son—headstrong when needed, never backing down and eyes never adverting from hers. “You need to apologise to him.”

“I already did.”

“No, you need to _actually_ apologise to him.” Mark said, looking over his shoulder to where his boyfriend stood waiting for the elevator. “Because we’re moving in together soon.”

“You’re _what_?”

It wouldn’t have happened that way, if she hadn’t done what she did earlier, it definitely wouldn’t have happened that way. Because he and Donghyuck hadn’t talked about it since the day at the botanical garden.

Even if they came to the agreement that they were both fine with the idea of moving in together, they still hadn’t talked about actually moving in together, especially not soon like he said. For some reason, he couldn’t keep it in. Mark had never been one to make impulsive decisions, but dating Donghyuck, spending so much time around him seemed to have made him a little more daring.

And the fact that his feelings for Donghyuck were so strong definitely played a part in the way it had happened.

Mark tried to keep his pride at bay when his mother’s shocked expression replayed in his mind when he joined his boyfriend in the elevator, on the taxi ride back to the bus terminal, when Donghyuck shoved a postcard with the Hanbit Tower in his face with a promise to visit next time they came to Daejeon, and one hour into the bus ride, when Donghyuck rested his head on his shoulder again and Frank Ocean’s first love ran on his mind and through their ears.

“I know you don’t want to hear this but you really shouldn’t have spoken to your mother like that.” Donghyuck’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the buzzing of the bus.

“It’s about time she respects our relationship.”

“She’s trying.”

“She’s not trying hard enough.” Mark uttered.

“Hyung.” Donghyuck pulled away to look him in the eyes, sincerity painted on every detail of his face. “She’s trying. They’re all trying.”

“I know.”

In the bottom of his heart, he did. His mother was trying, his father, Donghyuck’s parents, his aunt who lived in Seoul and met with him every two weeks. But Mark was trying, Donghyuck too. They were trying—to be honest with one another, to respect each other’s feelings and boundaries, to be happy and possibly in love, to make this relationship work.

And Donghyuck’s parents have started to gladly accept him now that they’ve realized he was as serious about their son as Donghyuck was. Now that Donghyuck’s aunt invited him to join them for lunch and even asked his opinion on what she should get for her son’s six birthday, it was starting to weigh on him that his parents were yet to show them as much effort.

“But sill, thank you, hyung.” Donghyuck whispered after falling back on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“For standing up for me today—for us.” He squeezed Mark’s hand. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything.”

Mark squeezed his hand right back. “Don’t worry, baby. You don’t have to apologise. I understand.”

He sighed. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

It was because of this. Because Donghyuck cared as much about it as he did, and even after being disrespected he was still decent enough to defend his mother’s actions because he was just too good.

And at first, Mark couldn’t believe how good he was. Donghyuck might tease, might laugh and poke and bite away his smiles while Mark sulked. But Donghyuck sat next to him throughout the whole night when he was sick or had essays to write, reminding him to drink water, playing with his hair, massaging his shoulders and reminding him how well he was doing, priding himself for having such a smart boyfriend and Mark would finish his work, sleep with his head above Donghyuck’s chest and, in the morning, a peck on his lips and a blush on his ears before he went to class.

“And hyung.”

“Hm?” Mark hummed.

“You should use your family's shamelessness on me,” Donghyuck whispered again, lips pressing softly against his knuckles and a smile stretching over his skin. “I have a feeling it’s going to be very effective.”

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh..hey..im back..after one month..and i still want a girlfriend.. 🤪  
> ok but honestly, ive been writing this part ever since i finished part 1 and here’s the thing i wrote 6k in 2 two and then just stared at it for almost 3 weeks unable to piece scenes together and thats honestly so frustrating like please can I just finish this<3 thankfully i was able to force myself to sit down and get it done after 4 whole days of just .Staring so hhhhhh i hope it was worth it. i also started writing like 6 other chapters for this but ofc im doing it out of order because im unhinged and i need to let it out whenever i get an idea so theres THAT
> 
> also if you think mark’s parents in this are basically me projecting my own parents and what happened (but not exactly) with me onto fanfiction..aha..no you dont.. 
> 
> while this particular topic is a bit iffy bc why do we have to go through shit like this, unfortunately, its still a reality in some lgtbq+ people’s lives and since its something that i've had to constantly deal with for almost 10 years, i decided that i had to write about it (maybe as a therapy session for myself bc ugh if its not annoying and kinda dehumanizing to live through<3).
> 
> but yes, on a more light hearted note: look at [this](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2368/8603/products/star-Y.jpg?v=1571690627) adorable star plushie i found while writing this bc i remembered irl mark is the cutest person alive and had a star toy named lucky when he was little and I want to squeeze him. Also fun fact, the star toy i linked is actually made for chihuahuas.
> 
> as always, i hope you all enjoyed this or that it was enough to keep you entertained. thank you for taking the time to read.  
> i hope all of you are healthy both mentally and physically and happy.
> 
> p.s. english is not my first language so please feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes or if anything sounds weird and also let's ignore my incapability of writing summaries ♡♡


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